Reflections of a Fake Psychic
by Olivia94
Summary: By the time I was placed in my dad’s arms for the first time, he might as well have been able to write my entire biography. Shawn talks about his dad's expectations. Please R&R! Thanks!
1. Shawn

**Okay, so here's a little oneshot that I decided to write for no particular reason. It's very similar to my other story, **_**Because I Met You, **_**for those of you who might of read that. I've pretty much decided that I'm going to do quite a few stories like this, just whenever I feel like it. Whenever I'm inspired. If anyone has a request, message me or put it in a review and I'll likely write it! Please read and review! Thanks!**

**Disclaimer- I have no ownership over Psych whatsoever**

**OooOooO**

When a guy's kid is born, he's supposed to be overcome with these emotions of love and devotion and support for his child. At least, that's how it is in the movies. Like Steve Martin and George Newbern in _Father of the Bride: Part Two. _But in the Spencer family, it doesn't work like that. Not even kind of.

You'd think that my old man would've waited say, an hour before he planned my whole life out for me. Nope. By the time I was placed in my dad's arms for the first time, he might as well have been able to write my entire biography.

I was going to be the lead in my first grade play. Be the star of the middle school baseball team. I was going to be the valedictorian. Go to Harvard, Princeton or Yale. And most important I was going to be a cop. A damn good one too.

It didn't matter what I wanted or what I was capable of. All that was important was what was expected of me.

As soon as I could raise my head off my pillow good ole Henry was teaching me to be super-cop. He'd sit with me for hours going through _Where's Waldo _books. And not in the sweet, conventional, fatherly way either.

"_Where's Waldo, kid?... No, Shawn, that's an elephant. Look closer… It shouldn't be taking this long. At this point the perp's packed up and halfway to Guatemala."_

Even as a kid my dad set the bar unreasonably high. If I didn't reach it, I was a disappointment. If I did, I was just reaching the expectations. No reason for praise or celebration. It wasn't any kind of accomplishment.

Naturally, I ended up being more of a disappointment than anything else. There just wasn't anyway I could do everything. I mean, it's not like I'm Liam Neeson in _Taken _(and let's face it, that guy is dope!). I just couldn't ever fill the shoes of this kid that my father had created in his mind.

I was always too goofy, or too snarky, or too rebellious, or too soft. Ugh, soft. I always hated it when he said that to me.

"_Close doesn't cut it anymore, Shawn. You're going soft on me."_

"_You know I'm eleven, right?"_

It's like the worst thing that could possibly happen would be that I lose the hyper-awareness that mi padre drilled into me since I was a kid. I could lose an arm, a leg, hell I could be paralyzed but as long as I didn't go _soft _everything would be fine.

You know, most cop parents dread the idea of their kids following in their footsteps. Just think about it. What kind of dad _wants _their kid to go into an extremely dangerous, life-threatening field? But not my dad. It was all about the honor, the discipline and the recognition. He wanted to be able to say, "See him? He's my boy. I taught him everything he knows." Kind of like Phil from _Hercules. _You'd think that having a son who's solved dozens of un-solvable cases would make him proud. Nope. I'm still a big, fat disappointment.

"_When I was in the department, there were two things I hated in this world: private investigators and psychics. Congratulations kid. You've just hit the disappointment exacto." _

That day he pretty much told me that no matter what I do, I'll always be a failure in his eyes. Sure, I can say and act like it doesn't bother me, but let's be honest. Who wouldn't be hurt by their own father telling them that they've completely failed at every aspect of life in their eyes? Every now and then I swear I'll see a flash of pride go across his eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it came, leaving me to wonder if it was real or just my mind playing tricks on me.

I'll admit one thing, though: I wasn't fair with my dad after my mom left. I don't know why I never even considered the idea that my mom was the one to leave. I was just always so sure it was my dad to tore the whole thing apart. My mom was the one person that was always proud of me, no matter what. She supported me and encouraged me whether it was about grades or my ventures as the driver of the Oscar Meyer Wiener-mobile. The fact that she pretty much up and abandoned me while I was still in high school still blows me away.

Right after I graduated I up and left just like my mom. I needed to leave. I needed to see the world and experience everything. My hatred of my father at that point just added to my desire to get away from Santa Barbara. After a few months I'd write him the occasional postcard. Never anything deep, just letting him know that I was still alive. Every now and then I look back and feel bad for what I must have put him through. I don't pretend to know much about how a parent feels toward their kid, but I can't imagine that it was all too pleasant for him not knowing where I was.

Now Henry and I have a different relationship. I don't hate him anymore. He still pressures me and makes me feel like Judd Nelson in _The Breakfast Club, _(making him Paul Gleason)but at least I can hold a conversation with the man without the neighbors calling the cops. It still tears me apart when I see him with other women. I mean, he's been divorced for like, nineteen years, but that doesn't help much. Part of me will always feel like he abandoned my mom, even if it doesn't make any sense.

Really, I just want to stop being a disappointment. To stop my dad from wishing that I wasn't his son. In order to do that, I'd have to change who I am. I don't think that that's ever going to happen.

**OooOooO**

**Ugh. Once again, I'm thinking this one is super iffy. I don't know. It's just not clicking. I'd LOVE LOVE LOVE for you to tell me what you think. If you agree and think that it doesn't click, please tell me why! I need to know these things!**

**One more thing, if I make more of these, should I put it in the same story as another chapter or just make a new story?**

**Thanks for reading! Pease review! Thanks!**


	2. Henry

**So I decided to write a chapter from Henry's POV, ya know, to keep it symmetrical. Sorry it took me so long to write this! I've been crazy busy.**

**Before you read this, you have to understand something: I am a 15-year-old girl with no children, younger brothers and sisters, or even younger cousins. I have absolutely no insight whatsoever to the feelings a parent has for their kid. I did the best I could, but there's a fair chance I got everything wrong.**

**I challenge all of you to read this story hearing Henry's voice in your head. It may be hard (especially since this is likely incredibly OOC) but I think it helps. Please review!**

**WARNING!: Major spoilers Mr. Yang/Yin. Spoilers pilot, and there is a reference to Weekend Warriors which I challenge you all to find :D**

**OooOooO**

I thought I knew what I was getting myself in when I decided I wanted a kid. I thought it'd be like all those old movies: going fishing and playing ball—all the while teaching my kid how to survive in the world. I always wanted a boy. Maddie said that I'd be better with a girl, but I didn't care. I wanted a boy. I wanted someone to follow in my footsteps. Someone to make me proud.

What I didn't expect was Shawn. I didn't expect such an undisciplined, attention deficit, irresponsible son. Don't get me wrong; I loved that little boy with all my heart. Even as a baby the kid just had this… air about him. This charm. He got happy over the littlest things. Like when the beeper on the washing machine went off. He'd sit in front of the washing machine, watching the clothes tumble around and around, and would do this little victory dance every time the beeper went off.

His smile and laugh were just… infectious. I remember this one time I came home late after a long night on the job. And boy, was I in a mood. My partner and I, we had this perp in cuffs and we were leading him into the station. Right as we reached the door, he spun around and attacked my partner. Knocked him unconscious in the blink of an eye. Within a few seconds, a few black and whites had swarmed the guy and brought him down. Boy, did I feel like an idiot. I felt like a failure. But then, that night I walked into Shawn's room to check in on him. He was just sleeping. He was in his crib, just four months old, clinging to his little blanket. I saw him and thought 'Well, if I was able to be part of making something so perfect, I guess I can't be such a failure after all"—you know, the kind of illogical, emotional talk that only happens with new parents. Then Shawn woke up. Babies cry, but Shawn never did. He just opened his eyes and stretched. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. It was the first time he'd ever smiled at me. In that instant I forgot about the day. All I cared about was the perfect little boy in front of me.

My sappy, overemotional phase didn't last long. It ended just about the time the kid started talking. And once he started, he didn't stop. I don't pretend to be a patient person. The kid drove me crazy. You know what his problem was? He didn't know how to listen. He didn't know how to open his ears for two freaking seconds and pay attention to someone else. Still doesn't. He's too busy talking all the time. I did all I could to teach him how to be a cop. To teach him _discipline. _But no. He had to do everything _his _way. He discarded everything I said because he thought he knew better.

I mean, I'm not saying I was the best father, either. Looking back, I can't help but think I might've pushed him too hard. In all honesty, I don't really know if he even wanted to be an officer. I just assumed that he did and he never told me otherwise.

So I taught him to be a cop. A damn good one, too. And he would've been. Probably the greatest the city of Santa Barbara has ever seen. But then he went and blew it. One night the genius decided to go steal a car. He's always said that it was to impress a girl, but I don't buy it. Shawn could always get any girl he wanted. He gets that from me. No, the kid wanted to get back at me. He knew that I always wanted him to follow in my footsteps. He wanted to hurt me. He wanted to, because he had this absurd notion that I kicked his mother out. He doesn't realize that I did every single thing I could think of to keep our family together.

He found fault in me so quickly. Maybe because I've always been so easy to find fault in him. But how could I not? I'm his father, for Christ's sake! It was my job to prepare him for the real world. If I just sat back and didn't point out all of his mistakes, he could easily make them again, and it could end in him losing his life. Maybe I was too harsh or critical, but I did it all for him. To protect him.

If he asked me I'd deny it, but it killed me when he left. He was still a kid. He up and left without leaving so much as a letter. I had to find out he left from _Gus._ I never knew where he was or what he was doing. I didn't know if he was in jail or lying dead in a gutter. I couldn't protect him anymore. I was alone. His mom left and then he did. I was alone, and I was pissed. Eventually, he started sending me postcards with a short letter, and my worry for him dulled to a blind rage. The kid was just so stupid and ignorant and inconsiderate. He steals a car, ruining all chances of becoming a cop, then leaves? He skips college and doesn't get a serious job, but dozens of goofy ones? Where did I go wrong?

Then the kid shows up at my door. I could tell that he was upset that I didn't tell him I came back to Santa Barbara. In retrospect, it was immature of me. But, I mean, I was mad. He didn't tell me he was leaving, so I didn't tell him I came back. I know it isn't a parents' job to try and get back at their kid. But for a while there, he wasn't my son. Before you judge me, you have to understand, my boy just left. He cut all ties to me. You always hear people whose parents abandoned them saying "They left. They don't care about me. They're not my parents anymore." Well, it works like that for parents too. Just because we're older and more mature and experienced doesn't mean we cease to feel anything. My kid betrayed me, so he stopped being my kid. That's not to say I didn't love him or care about him anymore. I did, just more in the way that I love and care about Gus. But anyways, Shawn shows up my door after years of hardly any contact. He tells me that he's a private _psychic _detective. Really? I thought it was a joke. After all these years he comes to me, tells me he's got another screw-off job, and then asks for my help. Did he not realize that I have a reputation at that station?

As much as I hate to say it, though, the kid's good. He's really good. I'm not saying that I approve of his job, because I don't. I doubt I ever will. But still, he found a way to basically be a cop, without being a cop. Now, there are two things I didn't expect with Shawn having this job: I didn't think I'd be worried, and I didn't think I'd be proud. I guess anyone who has family with a job like this is worried; it just never occurred to me all the time he was growing up that I'd be genuinely terrified for my son. I don't know why, I mean, officers have guns shoved in their faces on a regular basis—especially when you're Shawn. It's like the kid goes out of his way to get himself in trouble. And when he was shot—oh God—that was the worst moment of my life. Knowing my boy was somewhere with a bullet in him and likely a gun to his head was… indescribable. I couldn't help him. All I could do was search and hope we found him alive. I don't think the kid will ever realize how scared I was.

Were Shawn a cop, I would've expected to be proud. But a psychic? No, I didn't think I could ever be proud of that. But he can solve anything. He's solved cases that the best and the brightest couldn't. He solved a case when his own mother was missing. He was even able to keep his head straight when the two women who he cared most about were at risk. He's solved cases that I don't even think I could. And that's enough to make any father proud.

Shawn hasn't done right by me. And I know I haven't done right by him. We have one of the most ridiculously complicated relationships I've ever seen. For all I know, the kid completely hates me. But I could never hate him. People always say that you don't know love until you have a kid. I always thought that was complete crap. And then Shawn was born. And yeah, he's a pain in the ass 87% of the time, but he'll always be that little boy who made my problems melt away with just a smile.

**OooOooO**

**So guys, reviews would be awesome here. Like I said, this was incredibly hard for me to write. I'd love any kind of compliments or constructive criticism you can throw my way. Also, I plan on writing a few of these: first person with two characters, each talking about the others in their life. Any ideas or prompts are welcome and will likely be honored! Thanks for reading, please review! :D**


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